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“I don’t believe him. If he has the Spider’s information, then he knows who the guy is. And I want to know. Now.”
The phone on Booker’s desk buzzed.
“Don’t fucking move,” I said.
“If I don’t answer, my secretary will get suspicious.”
“Bullshit. If you don’t answer, she’ll think you’re in the middle of an important meeting, which you are.”
The phone buzzed twice more, and then sure enough, it stopped.
“Ready to talk?” I asked.
“Kill me if you want to,” Booker said. “I’ll go down fighting. I’ve been fighting my whole life.”
Yeah, this guy was so not what he purported to be.
“I’m sorry for breaking your confidence about the club,” Joe said quietly. “You can tell the whole world I used to be a member there if you want to. I don’t give a shit if people know what kind of sex I like. But I’m beginning to think Bryce is right.” He moved to the side of Booker and then quickly drew Rosie out of his ankle holster. Then he looked around the office. “What kind of work do you do here, Cade, that you have to have your office swept for bugs daily?”
Booker opened his mouth but said nothing.
“I know you’re armed,” Joe went on, “but you can’t take us both out at once. You try anything, you’ll end up dead. So tell us what we want to know. Who the fuck is the Spider?”
“I told you. Go ahead and kill me. I’ve been dead for thirty years anyway.”
“I thought you were a friend, Cade, and I trusted you—but when it comes down to you and Bryce, he’ll win every time. Throw my mother and sister into the mix? It’s no contest.”
“I told you to kill me. Give it your best shot.”
“Hold on, Joe,” I said. “No one wants to die that badly. He’s up to something.”
Booker chuckled. “You’d better hope you’re a good shot.”
“The best,” I said. “I learned from my psycho father. You want to try to take me on?”
“I learned from the best as well,” Booker said. “And you seem a little psycho yourself from where I’m standing.”
Rage welled inside me. “I’ll hand it to you. You thought of exactly the right thing to say to piss me off even more.” I cocked my gun. “I’m serious. Dead serious. You think I’m anything like my father? Even a little? Then you should be scared shitless right now.”
My words produced a tiny—but still visible—shudder across Booker’s body. I looked sideways at Joe. Yeah, he had noticed too.
“Hate to tell you this, Cade,” Joe said, “but Tom Simpson taught me how to shoot as well. We’re both crack shots, and fast as spit.”
“I was trained by the FBI, in case you forgot,” Booker said.
“Didn’t forget,” Joe said, “but Bryce and I have been handling guns since we were seven years old. I’d bet we’re both more experienced than you.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet.”
“Shut up and stand still.” Joe walked toward Booker and frisked him. “Just as I thought. Two. Take off your shirt.”
“Joe—”
“Now.”
Booker removed his button-down, revealing a shoulder holster and pistol. Joe took the gun and slid it across the floor. Then he took the other weapon from Booker’s ankle holster.
“Did you check his crotch?” I asked.
